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Thursday, May 3, 2007
To Kill a Mockingbird: Part 1
Characters:
Jean-Louise or Scout: the narrator of the story. She is 6-7 at the time. She is going through the first and second grade of school that utilizes the theories of John Dewey (hence the Dewey decimal title). She fights boys when she has to and doesn't really want to be feminine. Receives multiple insults on account of her father because he defends blacks in court.
Jeremy or Jem: The brother of Scout who is 10-11 in the book. He advances from 5th grade to 6th grade. Normally he shows restraint and follows what Atticus, his father, says. Along with Scout he finds items in a tree that her need little baubles that children hang on too. He also resents his father being insulted, and this results in the fiasco with Mrs. Drubose. Wishes to be part of the adults.
Dill or Charles Harris: a summertime friend of Scout and Jem. He is a little rascal that likes to act parts in the group's plays. He is a year older than Scout, so 7. He dares Jem to touch the house of the Radleys.
Atticus Finch: The father of Jem and Scout who is the lawyer of the town of Maycomb. He is quite a bit older than his kids being around 50. Normally he is calm tempered and detached. He reads to his kids every night and even taugh Scout to read before she attended school. He starts to defend a blackman, which is certain anathema in Maycomb. He is a straight shooter, but he avoids hearing the title. His vision is bad as well.
Calpurnia: the black maid of Atticus who takes care of the kids most of the time. She tough, but she starts to show tenderness to the kids as they grow up. Also, she is responsible for finding the sick dog Tim Johnson.
Ms. Maudie Atkinson: The nieghbor of Atticus who is also middle aged. She befriends Scout as Scout gets excluded from the boys' games. She is fond of making treats as well as gardening. Later on, her house gets burned down after she tried to keep her plants warm.
Ms. Caroline: Scout's first grade teacher who faces the abuse of stupid hicks living around the town. She is not too kindly to Scout since she doesn't fit the Dewey system. She cries at the conditions of the Ewells, the biggest hicks that don't even clean themselves. She's young (21) and pretty as well.
Mr. Radley: Father of the Radley household. He hardly left his house and his kids became a mess. Maudie thinks that they're anabaptists who are very serious and antisocial in their beliefs. He buys and sells cotton, which in other words means that no one knows what he does.3
Ms. Radley: Wife of Mr. Radley. She doesn't really do much but die early on.
Boo Radley: Crazy son of Mr. Radley who hangs with the wrong crowd and is mentally deranged. He stabbed his father in the thigh before. He lingers about the house
Nathan Radley: the other son of Mr. Radley, who is a bit more sane. He takes over the house after his father dies. He occasionally goes to town to buy a magazine.
Mr. Avery: Sits on his porch being part of the niehgborhood. He makes alot of predictions on the weather based on the evil of this world. He's not to fond of Scout or Jef since they caught him peeing into the street.
Mrs. Dubose: An old lady that makes everyone feel like crap while she sits on her porch. She became a morphine addict because of the pain she felt in her old age. She eventually makes Jem sit and read to her while she makes fun of Atticus and insults all of them again and again.
Jessie: Mrs. Dubose's black servant.
Walter Cunningham: A son in the Cunningham family. He is poor and his family is poor. He gets invited for dinner by Jem.
Little Chuck: Nice little kid that catches the mouse in the classroom. Helps console Ms. Caroline.
The Ewells, and Burris Ewell: Stupid poor hicks that don't bathe. They are involved in the case against Atticus and his client
Mr. Tate (Heck): The sheriff. A good man that's been in the town awhile. Knows the people and is one of Atticus's friends.
Judge Taylor: Another friend of Atticus. He chews his cigar and is very old. Often thought to be sleeping in court, but doesn't.
Reverend Sykes: The preacher at Calpurnia's church. Good at getting money for Tom Robinson and guiding the blacks in the community.
Tom Robinson: The poor man sentenced in the trial. He helps out the Mayella Ewell in turn tries to get love from him. He knows his inevitable fate and faces it with almost childlike innocence.
Mayella Ewell: Gets beaten by her father, and claims that Tom raped her. She hushes up the truth and suffers from her squalor.
Mr. Gilmer: The prosecution. Good friends with Atticus.
Mr. Raymond: Cavorts with blacks, but holds himself respectably opposed to what others think around him. He carries around coca cola in a bag to make others think he's a drunk.
Aunt Alexandra: Scout's aunt who takes on all the misguided virtues of the old ways. She scolds Scout and him constantly. She defends her horrid grandson Francis. Narrator alludes to her loveless relationship with her husband which allows her to live with Atticus and look over the "motherless" kids. She also wants to get rid of Calpurnia.
Francis: Alexandra's son. Little turd that Scout beats up.
Ms. Stephanie Crawford: A woman in the town that's a big busybody.
Reason for title: Mockingbirds are nice birds that just sing and make people happy. Thus, it's a real sin to kill them.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
As I drove through the pristine lofts emitting their rays of stylish cosmopolitan pleasantness of West Village in uptown Dallas, I searched for my designated school of observation, North Dallas High School. The expectation of a school matching the area around it soothed my mind about some well-off kids likely taking that step out of the ignorant swamp the school years I knew into that tall mountain of academic reform touted by so many schools these days. Following the maxim of conventional wisdom (or more truthfully, conventional prejudice), I assumed affluence equaled ability. However, I forgot another important maxim (again, arising from conventional prejudice), the affluent despise poverty and always opt for the nearest private institution. Behind the new cafes, boutiques, and Vespa dealerships lies an old crumbling building accompanied by some monotone portables complete with an unkempt lawn and a parking lot paved with weeds and gravel. This was North Dallas High School. Beyond the school lie some crowded tenements. This was where the school’s students came from.
I observed the class of the teacher for Remedial English. He took on the students that basically suffered from illiteracy in his class, titled Reading 2. The school required failing students of Reading 1 to continue on into Reading 2. While talking to me in private, the teacher clarified his class’s title more accurately as, “Reading -1”.
Judging from the procedures of class, curriculum originated wholly from the TAKS standardized test. In the first two sessions that I observed, the teacher devoted class time to copying three sample essays from the TAKS test. They briefly discussed the differences between good essays and bad essays, but most of the kids concentrated on finishing their copying. Once the students completed the TAKS later that month, I eagerly awaited what the class would work on afterwards. Observing people copying sample essays for TAKS bores me probably more than it bores the students.
The week after the TAKS served as free time for the kids as a reward for their good work that whole year. Again, this was a fruitless observation for me. However, the teacher assure me that the following week was devoted to preparation for Lord of the Flies, the first real book that they would read that year in Reading 2.
When I came in that week, preparation included watching an extremely old documentary (almost contemporary with the period it covered) of Hitler and the Nazi regime. The students were to make connections of Fascism with the government that the kids set up in Lord of the Flies. This connection proved difficult with the kids since most of them slept during the documentary and somehow had no prior knowledge of World War II. Dismayed at their ignorance, the teacher muttered that they would be perfect goons for following a dictator like Hitler.
In my last session, I observed them trying to outline an essay concerning the first third of the book. The students did not know how to write an outline for an essay or much less write an essay. The prompt for the essay asked them about the necessity of rules in society and how the boys in the book recreated a system of rules on their island. The students spent much of the period either staring at an empty page, fiddling with a broken pencil sharpener, or sleeping (I marveled at this, since I personally found the seats incredibly uncomfortable). Noticing the blank pages on the desks, the teacher became flustered and hastily showed them how to make an outline for an essay on the chalk board which the students then voraciously copied. When the period ended, the teacher sarcastically commented to me, “Walking into this classroom is like catching a glimpse of the Dark Ages. No such thing as reading or writing, or organized thought. Just a bunch of brutes filled with random meaningless thoughts.”
Indeed, I thought of the Dark Ages when reviewing the type of environment that these students enter. They are cramped in a dark mean building with small rooms at school as well as their home, which they often share with nine other people. The teacher rigorously beats them into submission like serfs by intimidation, insults, and threats of law enforcement (it is not uncommon for students to mysteriously disappear after an outbreak in class). As a result, the kids carry poor spirits about school and develop only a rudimentary thinking in academics that will never expand or help in any way. I can see that the students have accepted their fate as mediocre dullards along with their teachers. The teachers mistake their cynicism for realism to justify their lack of assistance to these already impoverished kids. Very much like the Dark Ages (history as so many lessons), the school maintained order but at a very high cost.
After my sessions at the school, I often mulled about a resolution, but I found that a conclusion would only come when I became a teacher. So, I would usually grab a drink at the nearby Starbucks, admire West Village, and forget about the whole thing altogether.
Friday, March 23, 2007
It sometimes gets to the point where I truly fanticize about the outside. The dull surroundings accordingly accompanies by the dull minds in it, and I seek the outside.
My imagination forms those images that appealed me for some kind of reason that escapes me. It's that particular time in Spring where the skies forebode a storm that never comes, and the trees have light green budding leaves. A constant breeze blows in a warm front and scatters the dead leaves that have accumulated over the winter.
I suppose it's one of the few times in the year where the outside feels nice. Naturally, school, or my university serves as the setting during that time of the year. Despite the ominous modern architecture meant for a skyless planet, I can happily embrace the campus. Students rarely walk through it between class sessions granting that golden silence. There, I become a silent acquaintance of the few adorning bushes and flower patches here and there.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
I've been reading a number of classic essayists, British and American, expound of the beauty of the surrounding countryside, of nature, of gardens, and all those other unfamiliar terms associated with green leafy things known as plants. I'm afraid nature has departed this dear little world of mine. Babbling brooks, rolling hills, shady forests don't really exist in Dallas. In place of it, we have endless highways, a infinite flat plain paved with infinite concrete, stores of all colors, shapes, and sizes, and a few weeds growing between the cracks of that concrete (some of those weeds even become trees). My world has little connection with that lush world of the past.
However, even this nature is also foreign to me. My life passes inside buildings that lack even windows. You want to know the most depressing environment that our wonderful modern world offers? School. You're crowded in a cell with a bunch of kids under florescent lights where depressed sighs of boredom fill the stuffy air. A student or teacher has the priviledge of enjoying five minute sessions with the hallways that offer slightly less stuffy air and a small window here and there. The only picture of color and fresh air appear in the default Windows XP wallpaper, the green fields, of the teachers' computers.
When I think about it, this setting can really seem depressing. But then, I've been so used to it all my life. I've come to even like it. The bleak surroundings have become the blank canvas which has encouraged creative introspection in my otherwise dull imagination. I think endlessly about a myriad of empty reflections with a deep thought now and then. Both drift into the forgotten obscurity towards which the stream of consciousness flows.
I get some time to read, now and then. When the books mention nature, I sometimes muse on it. If their nature is so different from my nature, how much different their lives must be from mine. Maybe that's why their music, their art, their very language seems so foreign to me. Of course, that does not mean they have no worth. For a sitting, they can transport me away from my surroundings and offer a view of that beautiful world before today.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Disturbing a beautiful vision of placidity, the radio alarm emits the fuzzy transmition of a familiar oldies tune: the morning has come. Long inactivity during slumber has rendered an uninviting chilly atmoshpere beyond the blankets encasing the awakened in a temporary womb. The early morning affords no light till its designated shift begins in half an hour. Till then, the gradation of shadows offer guidance through his small apartment until the waking worker feels ready to shock his dilated pupils to the florescent kitchen lights.
The drapery of his nightgown accompanying his slow movements accordingly the worker performs this morning routine in an unconscious series of reflexes: reaching for the cereal bowls in the cabinet, pouring his cereal then his milk, sitting down to eat it, rinsing it and leaving it in the sink. Nothing propels him except habit. The prospect of enjoying work, of making money, of meeting with some friendly faces, all have left him and have left him long ago merely left an unquestionable routine to begin the day.
As the worker puts on his life-defining uniform, he looks at himself in the mirror. Though he still qualifies as a young man, enthusiasm has left his visage; now, his eyes, the corners of mouth betray a look of resigned patience with the dull weight of his occupation's obligation.
The cold sterile light of the winter morning finally pierced the window blinds: it was time to leave. A familiar desolation creeped into the worker as he measured up the lack of prospects that his day would offer. Those beautiful things that would fuse his spirit to that eternal joy of Heaven seemed so far from the place he was going. He would only see the darkened souls of those performing their business, the pervading fear of everyone from everyone, and that dark chasm of pointlessness joining every task.
Gathering his keys into his coat pocket, he opened the front door and met the day. The day greeted him with a bitter wind numbing face and hands. He locked the door and headed to his elderly white wagon. The world around him was drenched in dark gray from the winter morning clouds. The worker longed for the womb he abandoned.
Suddenly, a soft feminine voice caught him before he entered his wagon. He looked back to see his beloved, clad in a nightrobe and slippers, holding up a bag with his lunch. She smiled. With a hitherto unknown volition the worker ran to her to kiss her farewell and take the lunch.
His soul bore beautiful colors in motion for the rest of the day.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Eating my lunch quietly in the teacher's lounge, I had another sub, an older guy probably in his late 40s, sit next to me. We talked about the school and our jobs for the day and compared schools, the conversation being fairly typical in a teacher's lounge. At the end of it though, I just had to get that dose of foreboding from the elder to the youth, i.e. me. In the midst of throwing away his styrofoam cup into the trashcan on his way out, he told me with a prophet-like (crazed wide-open eyes and half open mouth) look in his face, "Man, I feel sorry for you. I wouldn't want to be in your generation for anything. You're witnessing the decline of the American civilization; mark my words. More has changed in the past 30 years than in the 200 years before that. You'll see what I mean when you get older." Then, he left.
The scene left me wondering about this man's presentiment, if it was presentiment and not the ramblings of a jaded educator. I'd say it's the latter since most teachers are that way. But, what a strange thing to lament over constantly...
When a person sees change in a new generation, is it likewatching over this ominous gulf of depravity seep into the aging soul of humanity? Instead of seeing a little class of Jesus's children innocently looking back at us, their eyes reflecting that celestial kingdom above, does one see Mephisto's children grinning like imps succumbing to the temptations that will eventually destroy a recognizable soul? Honestly, it depends on how much sleep I get. A lack thereof will really have me questioning the world. Otherwise, I just roll my eyes at the stupid things kids do and see some hope.
Colors and animation flashing across a screen, cars and planes whirring around us, addictions sedating the masses, ears plugged, eyes hypnotized, mouths constantly chewing, and flacid bodies resting, behold, our scary new world. Shall we coin the familiar euphemism, Brave New World, despite there being no bravery whatsoever and a stagnation in original thinking? Sure, why not, that's what euphemisms are for. I'm actually feeling better already.
The gloomy prognostications of educators' (and the many former-educators') come with frightful frequency. I'll honestly admit that it gets to me sometimes. At those times, it would be nice to see some students appear before my eyes to prove them all wrong and deliver some beautiful speech of seeing the light of reason and responsibility. Rather, the student compounds the doubt by vandalizing what's left of the yet unvandalized school property.
But pshaw to the doubters! Your good intentions ring hollow and your ideals of a better world collapsed like a straw house to the wind of restless kids. Values have changed, but people and their level of education actually has not. I believe it's posssible to spread the gospel of gaining a soul, an idea, and some skills to change the world for the better. Only, it might take a little longer for the people of today than yesterday.
America is chalk-full of failures, mistakes, and regrets. But, with those moments of misjudgement might come that epiphany, that true wisdom. Adults have become students in this new scary world. Late bloomers abound. At least they bloom.
Rest assured evils of all sorts of forms plague modern life. But, like any time and any evil, humanity carries knowledge and wisdom to vanquish all of it; even this ftruth has descended all the way from Plato's allegory of the cave. So, I suppose that quote really does ring true, "The more things change, the more they stay the same."
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Hell little journal. It's been a while, but I'll keep coming back.
A bit like people you know, having a jolly time talking to then forget about another 6 months before thinking of them again. So it goes.
Consequently, my last book that was read featured the same lesson: People come back again and again and life never ceases to change. Of course, this is a pessemistic view happily espoused for the purpose of tragedy. Hardy's Jude the Obscure is a modern tragedy (though written over 100 years ago). The character is admirable, somewhat virtuous, relatable, but utterly doomed. Now, utilizing the a naturalist/realist approach to the book taking Drawin's cue, Hardy makes Jude a man governed by nature and instinct. Jude does not act upon reason or any logical improvement of his character, but inevitably falls into the snares of "drives". However, he copes with all this with reason enough. Jude is no desperate Romantic, but a frustrated young man trying make things out.
I found a certain empathy for Jude's character coming from an obscure background, pursuing an intellectual/philisophical ideal, questioning everything but somehow moving along. Drives have become my regrets and the leering wraiths I battle with in my mind. In taking solace with distraction or sipping the salubrious yet insipid brine of Wisdom and Maturity, I still search for fulfillment.
The women in the book ill-serve the female representation though they exist in reality; I've met them. On one hand there's the practical and obilivious Arabella and then the capricious overly senstitive Sue. Both are one of the more interesting chracters in novels. The represent the two worlds that tear poor Jude apart. Both lack fulfillment are constant sources of frustration.
The book features a pretty grotesqe scene that even surprised me who knew something about it. It was an interesting twist and strangely congruent with the tragic events of Sophocles' plays. It's somewhat reminiscent of today's issue of parents bequeathing their problems to children unable to cope being to young to understand them.
Overall, a very satisfying read though you'll need to read something happy afterwards or depression and cynicism might take a toll.
Monday, December 4, 2006
Though it's been a while ago, I read a compilation of short stories by O' Henry. For a person who immerses himself in the dry tomes of history and philosophy, these little fictive gems were like candy. O'Henry was accused of following a formula in all his writing. Really, the only thing to expect in his stores is the twist at the end, but the rest varies in tone, vocabulary, and morality.
The wonder of it is that he was in prison when he started.
There was a story about two friends making a pact to see each other again after 10 years. One became a criminal and the other a cop. The two wind up meeting, but out of coincidence. It's a clever idea and a neat little story. The compilation was full of them. Fortunately, many of them got past being simply clever. O'Henry should be credited for exploring the creative dillemas of profitable writers. I think the ones seeking to craft a new work of art have always been the subject of wonder for many writers (Mann and Hoffman immediately come to mind). But, O'Henry reveals the thoughts and needs of those writers in need of getting published and the gritty realities that compromise them.
I guess there're some times where he strays into these wild western tales set in Texas where he entertains more than edifies. They're interesting all the same. The compilation ended on a story illustrating the life of a comic writer which was his best story. A man who laughs and makes jokes becomes a comic writer, but over the years loses his humor and his originality. He then finds solace in an extremely boring person and regains his contentment.
I've a little bit past the half point for Plutarch's Lives Volume 1. I had to take a break since it was a very slow and very long read. I've taken up Jane Eyre and have been enjoying so far. I still have a ways to go though.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
I read in the newspaper a letter concerning the personal-ness of religion. Some politician apparently made the claim that personal matter not to be discussed in the public forum or something like that. The writer replied to this asking if religion was thought to be such a personal matter, how Christianity or any other religion could even hope to spread. I actually didn't think much of the letter at the time, but quickly turned back to the sports page to see if there was some basketball news I might've missed.
Then a few days ago in one of my classes one of my classmates did a presentation in my Grammar class. She made a Power Point Presentation on language and translation in the bible. The subject itself made me uncomfortable. Then hearing her talk about her beliefs and her church (Pentecostal) made me even more galled. Then jokes wre exchanged about religion and God, and of course, Catholics. Immediately, I didn't think very much of this girl when I knew she was religious. Then again, I didn't really think much at all. This was all instinct.
After this, I just question myself. Why in the world did I get this feeling? I can safely lay alot of it on secular conditioning. Never, while growing up, did I hear about God or Jesus or Church talked about among anyone besides my family and the church I attend and a few friends. Among colleagues, God seemed pretty far away, and if He was talked about, it was always pretty impersonal. In college, God is pretty much scorned. Any student expressing their belief, like girl in my grammar class, will always be immediately shushed and judged to be an absolute idiot.
I remember when I was at Mexico, I was put on the hot seat by two other Americans who were neighbors. When I briefly mentioned I was Catholic they got offensive. It started how they didn't "agree" with the Church and how they thought organized religion and Catholicism was wrong. Flat out wrong! I found that pretty insulting. These two girls were saying I was wrong an felt completely fine about it. I had to rebuff, but I got tacked with being a homophobe because I wasn't very keen on gay marriage. They took a hostile approach after that always and the evening ended incredibly awkwardly. I didn't renounce my faith, but it sure sucked being thought an idiot.
It bothers me. Jesus, my golden example of Faith and Love, took the blows and preached. No one got the best of him. I'm reading the New Testament again trying to get some answers. I read his parables and try to think how to apply them. The ones that interested me most were his quote, "Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you." and his parable about the different plants planted by the farmer where one gets choked, one withers, one gets eaten, and one grows nicely. I feel the need to become bolder. My faith is not a mockery or as one prominent Atheist said a "Cop out". It's Truth, plain and simple.
This type of thing will always be on my mind. I hope it is. For the moment, I just have to say it. I love God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. They are my guides and they affect everything. They are the fountain of happiness and salvation. With them lies the meaning. When I follow them I don't deny myself anything. Those that don't believe are those who deny themselves.
And if a person asks the most difficult question, "What is the meaning of life?" I believe the answer is simple, but very difficult, "God."
Amen
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
7:21PM
This was pretty funny.
Monday, October 30, 2006
As requested by some people, here are some live accounts of my lovely job as a substitute teacher taken from different e-mails I wrote while working.
"I'm glad you were given a break. I could sure go for one too. The class I'm subbing for at the moment is really making me an ugly person. They just can't keep still and read. They're supposed to be advanced placement and all that, but they're all immature brats. I do my thing walking around talking down the rabble rousers, but it's pretty futile. Oh well, another bad report. Still, I have to keep things at an acceptable for the good kids that are doing what they're supposed to. Only for their sake do I admininister discipline because I really hate doing that stuff."
"Sorry to bring up work again, but here I am, and man, this lesson plan is terrible. Allow me to tell you "The kids should get their books and read the whole period." What shit is that?! Is there a grade at the end? No. Is there any assignment to be done? No. Is there any accountability at all? Not at all. What can I do? The whole class has books in their hand while they go on stupidly. And no one has assigned seating letting them jabber on with their friends before I have the move them myself. Two classes over 30 kids and the rest over 25.
Hold on. I'm going to have to take this sucker out. Referral!
Ah.... sweet tranquility. It's funny what a difference one student can make. It's such a pain to pull out the big guns but what's done has to be done. Fortunately, this last class is looking much better. Eh, stupid kids. Really Rita, if you ever got aquainted with kids your age or younger, you'd understand why young people get no respect at all. They're absolutely idiotic sometimes.
Now, I take a deep breath. I'm so ready for this week to be over. Waking up before sunrise again and again is taking its toll. I think I've been spoiled with previous assignments I had because today and half of yesterday were pretty tedious. Man, when was the last time I had an advance placement class? It seems like all the jobs I'm doing are the classes full of dregs. This is depressing. I'd like to tell you that these are the exception. There are a whole bunch of good kids with a future, but they're such a narrow lot. They're like endangered animals in the school world. I'm still unsure how things will be when we have a kid."
"Right now, I'm on a subbing assignment babysitting a World History class. Unfortunately, I'm having to encounter the lowest common denominator that seems to grow and grow as time passes. They all speak Spanish and there's not a blue eye to be seen. The all-star cast that I'm with today is Akram, Aldo, Mario, Marco, Perla, and Mayra. A good group of kids that have issues with basic reading comprehension.
Ah, ok, now I've settled them down. I feel like a sheep dog having to bark at the sheep so they do what they're supposed to. It's a workout sometimes. But, I couldn't imagine myself doing anything else at the moment. It's just funny to reflect sometimes."
"Subbing has now become something as routine as J.C.Penney. I know the procedures, nothing surprises me, and the days go by swimmingly. Taking on another class is like taking on another few customers. Behavior problems are like returns. A really bad kid is like an angry customer. I'm unphased. I think the kids appreciate that. Heh, it's funny when a kid guiltily looks up when I tower above him catching him in the act of eating candy. I tell him to share with me, and all is well.
Right now, I'm in the middle of fifth period. The last period I tricked a student into logging me in. Heh, I'm so clever. Unfortunately, there isn't much amusement online. I read the paper and some sports news, gaze at a few comics, get my chuckle then it's back to the riveting Plutarch. It's hard to take as a historical document since much of it so far comes from myth. Then again, I've been doing Theseus and Romulus. The founder of Greece and the founder of Athens. It's just a hard thing to tell."
"Heh, it's funny looking at this one kid. He's a pale red head boy and the only white kid in the class, plus the only one with glasses. I just want to remark "My oh my, what are doing here?" But, that'd be inappropriate. He doesn't seem to look alienated, so that's good." -I found out later this kid was hispanic and spoke Spanish.
"Ok, had to quell a bathroom request. Ugh, these kids are really weasles sometimes."
"I get the bad feeling that today is going to be a long day. I’m in my second period right now, and none of the kids are doing their work at all. You see, being the 8th substitute they’ve had, any sense of accountability has completely been drained from them, and well, they don’t feel like doing French anymore. What’s more, they’re given a long-term group project of something they don’t seem to understand. This is what you call royally screwing the sub in a classroom quagmire. I’ve done this before in a Math class a few weeks back as you know. What I’ve learned from that experience is that it’s an impossible battle. Therefore, I’ll concede defeat and let them waste their time and be the babysitter.
Ah well, now I have the older more advanced classes and they’re much more cooperative. Still, the lesson plan was crummy and vague. They’re supposed to make some kind of lesson plans for the lower level French classes about French geography or something. I told them to look at the assignment make what they can of it, and go with it. So far, most people have been doing just that. I check on their progress ever so often. Some of them were reading Canterbury tales or American History! Heh, I actually talked books or history with them before getting them back on task. Yeah, I’m cool.
I know, I know, it’s just my job, my job, my job. How can I make this interesting to you? I really try. But, maybe there’s just no getting around it. Once something becomes an actual occupation it loses its luster in conversation. It was much more intriguing anticipating than simple recounting. Oh well."
( Read more... )
Saturday, October 21, 2006
I suppose I'm lucky to say that the first person (if we're not counting beloved pets) I can remember to some significant extent in my life has died a few days ago. It wasn't any relative or friend, but an old history professor I had.
His name was Dr. Hambly. He was tall, had a full beard and receding hairline, and had half closed eyes peering out of big thick glasses. He had a British accent and wore odd colored jackets. At the beginning of class he'd come in and start talking and wouldn't stop until the end of class. He had no outline, or notes, or anything of the like. He just started where he left off the other day.
Honestly, many people hated his class. Many skipped it, did poorly on tests, and got out with a passing grade or just dropped his classes. His lectures were dry, though if one listened hard, he could scrape a chuckle at some of the subtle morbid jokes he made. I don't think it was coincidence that his specialty was the middle ages since he had a strange affinity for sanguine battles and the like. He'd assign the driest historical books that would stack up to at least 1000 small printed pages of reading. I should also add that we had to supplement our medieval maps to help us understand what we were reading.
This was the way of every class. There were no discussion, and even simple questions about the material were scarce. His classes were the quietest, most somnolent gatherings on the campus.
Somehow, I took two classes with him. Somehow, I actually read half of what he assigned. Somehow, I managed an A on his tests. It was a strange thing. I don't know if I can attribute my love of that epoch to him, but I think he had an effect on it.
I guess there's something to be said about the calm, monotone, sobriety in his teaching. He didn't make opinions, or comparisons, or evaluations. He let the world be revealed and left alone. The Crusades happened, along with Lay Investiture, and the rise of Capetians in France, or the Plantagenet, or the Sicilian Vespers. Why make a fuss of it? Let's just take a break from the conflicts and arguments and just peer into what this world was all about. There was nothing to change, it already happened. It's dead, why bring it to life? The living world gets enough of our time.
As opposed to so many other history professors or historians that want to "bring history to life" Hambly left like it was. In his most impassioned moments, he took the pains of explaining inaccuracies and the debates of credibility in some 7th century bishop's chronicle of some obscure Frankish king. But, aside from that, there was nothing to be impassioned about. There was usually just a certain curiosity and reflection at piecing together the puzzle of all these historical abstractions.
I suppose I espouse this kind of approach to learning the past. I don't read history to prove a point, or trace the development of civilization, or any of that kind of thing. I read to find out more and leave the world I'm living in for a while. To me, history is simply careful observation and a vast puzzle that takes volumes of required reading. Maybe this is what I got from Hambly, and I thank for the revelation. In a strange way, it's brought me a kind of intellectual peace.
God bless the professor. Resounding the old cliché, I definitely took him for granted and now I regret it somewhat. May he rest in peace.
I might as well post his obituary as well. Somehow, his tastes outside history don't surprise me.
"Gavin R.G. Hambly: UTD professor passionate about history, B-movies
09:10 AM CDT on Saturday, October 21, 2006
By JOE SIMNACHER / The Dallas Morning News
Gavin R.G. Hambly was considered the archetypal good professor at the University of Texas at Dallas.
His students, known as Hambly's Army, registered for every history course he offered. Many non-students audited all of his courses.
He was a history professor and a former dean of the Richardson university's School of Arts and Humanities.
He also loved British comedies and B-movies.
Also Online
Legacy.com: Sign the Guest Book for Dr. Hambly
Dr. Hambly, 72, died Wednesday at Medical Center of Plano of complications from pneumonia.
Graveside services will be at 10:30 a.m. today at Hillcrest Memorial Park in Dallas.
A memorial service at UTD will be held in November.
"Gavin was absolutely devoted to learning," said Dennis M. Kratz, UTD's dean of arts and humanities. "He was the kind of scholar who just wanted to learn everything he could just for the sheer love of learning it."
Dr. Hambly had an encyclopedic knowledge of history, Dr. Kratz said. He taught courses on the history of everything from ancient Egypt and the Middle East to India and medieval Europe.
"He just had this vast knowledge of history, with this elegant bearing and this British accent that you imagined was designed for somebody to be a professor," Dr. Kratz said. "He just captivated classes and people."
Dr. Hambly was born in Kent, England, and grew up in Sevenoaks, a town about 20 miles from London.
Dr. Hambly was educated at King's College in Cambridge, where he received his bachelor's, master's and doctorate degrees in history. He was the Lord Parker of Waddington student of the college while earning his doctorate.
He served in the Royal Navy and in the British Civil Service – similar to the American Foreign Service – in Afghanistan; Tehran, Iran; Ankara, Turkey; and Delhi, India.
Dr. Hambly wrote, contributed to or edited numerous books on the history of Asia, Iran, the cities of Mughal, India, and the medieval world.
He taught at Yale University before joining the UTD faculty in 1975 as a history professor and founding master of the School of Arts and Humanities.
He was arts and humanities dean from 1977 to 1984.
Dr. Hambly taught history after leaving the deanship.
"He would walk into the room, pick up the chalk, start writing on the board and just start talking," Dr. Kratz said. "Never from notes, because he knew it all."
He received UTD's Victor L. Worsfold Outstanding Teaching Award in 2004. He taught until he was admitted to the hospital about two months ago.
Dr. Hambly's breadth of interests included B-movies, said his wife, Donna Berliner of Dallas.
"Specifically chick-flick B-movies," she said. "He loved Queen Latifah movies, too."
In addition to his wife, Dr. Hambly is survived by two sons, Charles Hambly of Dallas and Max Hambly of Austin; and four grandchildren.
A holdout against e-mail and cyberspace, Dr. Hambly's colleagues urged that memorials be made in the form of books on history or literature for the UTD library.
A campus notice stressed real books.
"Make sure that's books, it's got to be printed between covers," Dr. Kratz said.
Ms. Berliner also hopes to establish a fund for UTD history students. "
Friday, October 13, 2006
It's such a strange being a witness to so much in such a short amount of time. I know there's more to come, but I have to make out what's before me: "the future".
I should be more precise, it's the kids in the classes that I baby sit- I mean, sub for. I certainly get around the districts in this large prairie of north Dallas subbing for all subjects. Despite the changes in demographic, scenery, economy, and density in each community, they all kind of blend together. Despite their yearnings for attention, or uniqueness, or departure from the flock, none have ever stood out in my mind. Like me, the students become anonymous souls in these microcosms of the world known as schools.
To be fair, let it be known I see the worst of education. I get paid the least at the school. I get the least respect from faculty and students alike. There are no moments of warm fuzzies. I'm hardly secured and at risk for all kinds of liability. For the first few weeks of this, I strongly considered getting another job and quitting, but then the secret to subbing occurred to me: Just relax, sit, observe, and most of all, stop caring. Believe it or not, this has saved me from outward breakdowns of stress.
Why all the stress? Well, consider how my experiences (of which my earlier posts describe) and you will know that I see some ugly things. I've seen the makings of criminals, teen-age mothers, thugs, leeches and minimum wage drones. This used to irk me to no end. How could kids just throw their life away so willingly? How can you waste day after day of the school year simply doing nothing? Even worse, you're hazard to all those around you. You’re that black hole of learning sucking the precious thoughts of those who try. Plus, why become such a pill to a substitute who's nice and easy going?
I think anyone with a conscience gets some severe churning in their stomach after doing my job for some classes. Many times I'd simply reflect and wonder "What can I do? What can anyone do? Who let this happen?"
Just the first two days of this week I had an assignment subbing for the "Special Ed" kids. Now, many will recognize Special Education as the place for the mentally handicap. Well, better modernize your thinking, because now it applies to the many kids that just don't care. Their minds are fine and they function just swell. The only thing is that they've never learned to read in their life. They're juniors and seniors (16 and 17 yrs old) who read at a fifth grade level or lower. They consistently fail (and consistently care less about it) yet they still make it to high school and encumber it with more dead weight in the classrooms.
Upon receiving their designated assignment for the day that would be graded, some went to sleep, some stared at the page the whole period, and some just chatted listlessly with their equally listless neighbor. Their assignment was easy. They read a short sports article and answer a few obvious questions. It would take 5 minutes to do even for slow readers. Well, considering this, very few papers were turned in, and the ones that were contained all sorts of errors and had handwriting similar to that of second grader.
If I were in my first or second week doing this job, this would've killed me. Such a waste! A waste of money, a waste of a brain, a waste of time, and just a waste of life. Not just this realization would've killed me, but spending agonizing hours with these kids who treated me insolently like their prison warden would've gotten to me as well.
But, this is my 9th week on the job and this feeling has left me. I've had a good amount of those kinds of classes before. The conclusion has been made for all of them. They accept it, their parents accept it, administrators have accepted, and finally the law has decreed it acceptable. The ghettos will always have tenants and McDonald's will always have a nice pool of prospective employees.
Not that this is all I see. It must be understood that schools are much like society today: you have the rich, the middle class, and the poor. Well, in school you have the AP honors kids, the regular kids, and the remedial students. But, just like society today, the middle is disappearing in schools as well. Better get hitched to the honors program or you're pretty much sunk. It was like that when I was doing it, and it's become even more essential.
The honors kids are a joy. They work hard, they care about their grades, and they have some serious potential. Or at least, some of them do. Many of them care just enough cheat and copy every assignment their given. They have to find out the hard way how to do what the purpose of education which has certainly been distorted for in their minds for so long.
But, among all of it, what conclusion can I really make to excuse this all? What solution can I bring or at least suggest?
It's pretty simple, but it'll never happen. Stop making school mandatory and cut off the fat. School is prison for kids that don't want to learn. So be it, let them find a trade or a job and keep them away from those ready to learn. Learning ceases to exist when it becomes an obligation so let it be a choice. Moreover, let it be a choice at no extra expense. Yes, privatize the whole thing and let the money go to the teachers and substitutes who deserve it rather into a bottomless pit of uneven distribution. Just think how much better off the kids and their teachers would be. And think how much more productive and efficient the kids who opted for some kind of trade would be.
Perhaps this might favor the privileged class, but as it stands, they are already favored. Rather, it'd give more kids a chance to be pushed and to realize just what they're capable of.
Obviously, suggesting this type of resolution is like positing a new Utopia. Like I said before, it's just never going to happen. The unwritten "Right to Education" will remain loud and clear. And as always, I will watch and see those other rights to freedom like life, and the pursuit of happiness extinguished as a result.
Wednesday, October 4, 2006
It's better I do this now than later. I just read two very important books, Machiavelli's "The Prince plus some of his discourses on a Republic, and his letter about Cesar Borgias" along with Ceasar's "Commentaries on the Civil War".
First was Machiavelli, who is widely considered the harbinger of political realism as well as an Official Devilish Opportunist. In the book featuring his most well known writings concerning politics Machiavelli provides some good material for both judgments, but something else should be added to the glib titles: The Relevant Historian. There's something to be appreciated in them since he takes on the very foundations of government speaking in understandable abstracts. By doing so, he allows his vast knowledge of history pour in doing service to both the study of politics, law, and history. You find that things aren't so different as the world modernizes. There are still the same forces of legitimacy involved in governing prominence: money, military, and tradition. These are the main bulwarks that Machiavelli cites as necessary for any prince. He also speaks upon relations, princely demeanors, and even military strategies. All the things he speaks of are concisely presented and incredibly profound. He draws from Rome, Greece, Persia, and the middle ages, and proves his points well on the necessary management of princes as well Republics.
Now, the motives and morals of Machiavelli are certainly questionable. Being a prince requires killing, cheating, and stealing. The reader can be glib and sum of the author's logic as "the end justifying the means". This would be unfair to say. It's more, "The end justifies the means so long as it's really the end, and the means does not have to be employed further". The realization that evil must be done to succeed because men are evil does not justify it, but forces it. In a day and age where the Pope lies leads armies (something that truly grieves me as a Catholic), newly-minted Nation States conquer and terrorize others without scruples, and where political figures are assassinated constantly, overcoming the temporal world with kindness and good morality won't really prevail. The City of God, Plato's Republic, Moore's Utopia, will all exist outside reality. Eve and Adam had a bite and the world is what it is now: People led by fear and laziness, all tempted by sin of every conceivable form.
Even Machiavelli shows his ironic weakness in placing his hopes in a revived Italian Republic akin to the Roman Empire. He lets us know how ugly things might get for such a thing to occur, but it's the only way. Most might just feel like doing away with this stuff and seeking a monastery knowing what actions must be taken. But, then again, spiritual transcendence is hardly a thing to be mentioned in writings giving advice on successful politics. It's hard to tell where his beliefs lie. I think he was a fervid Christian but he discretely sought some purge in the Church that plagued his beloved Italy. Funnily enough, reform came just a few years after his death with the Reformation of Luther.
Ceasar's "Civil War" was unfortunately not so gratifying. I'd list it more as historical source material providing some nice evidence of the state of Rome a half century before the birth of Christ. It recounts his battle with Pompeiius in every livid, exacting detail. It's a pretty dry narrative that might be interesting to the military types. I must admit that I didn't try investing so much brain power to the exact maneuvers of Ceasar's 17th battalion in his 13th Legion in some tiny Greek town. Though, it's important to make the effort to analyze the bigger campaign and the general strategies for a good understanding of Ceasar's wisdom and insight. The whole book demonstrates the many factors that affect success including the politics, the psychology, historical wisdom, charisma, engineering and math, as well as topographical and combative strategy. Ceasar was no dummy and he proves it book by book. Just don't a charming tale with witticisms and clever dialogue.
On the bigger scale of historical arguments, Ceasar should definitely be hailed as a liberator of the people despite his ascendancy to the Imperial throne. The "republic" Ceasar fought against, was nothing we recognize as republic as today. It was an aristocracy/oligarchy. No plebian had any right to the polical process, and no one outside of Rome had any say. Also, the senate had to forsake their impossibly inadequate legitimacy and governance to the military commanders such as Sulla, Pompeiius or Ceasar. The whole empire could not be maintained otherwise since the whims of rich guys in Rome who came from Rome had no real basis for the people in the Orient or Gallic savages in north France. It had to be implemented by Ceasar's necessary political reforms and effective long-term military occupation.
Oh well, I'm going to take a break from history and read some fiction. I just had to put this down.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Recent Protests rage from Muslim actvists.
From AP:
Al-Qaida in Iraq and its allies said Muslims would be victorious and addressed the pope as "the worshipper of the cross," saying "you and the West are doomed as you can see from the defeat in Iraq, Afghanistan, Chechnya and elsewhere. ... We will break up the cross, spill the liquor and impose the 'jizya' tax, then the only thing acceptable is a conversion (to Islam) or (being killed by) the sword."
Another Iraqi extremist group, Ansar al-Sunna, challenged "sleeping Muslims" to prove their manhood by doing something other than "issuing statements or holding demonstrations."
"If the stupid pig is prancing with his blasphemies in his house," the group said in a Web statement, referring to the pope, "then let him wait for the day coming soon when the armies of the religion of right knock on the walls of Rome."
The Actual Quote (of 12th century Byzantine Emperor Maunel II):
'Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.'"
I'm just not getting their perhaps. Where's the contradiction?
Also from AP:
So far, protests over the pope's comments have been smaller. However, there has been some violence: Attackers hurled firebombs at seven churches in the West Bank and Gaza Strip over the weekend, and a nun was shot to death in Somalia.
Killing a defenseless nun! Ugh, what fuckers.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Here's an interesting article from the Associated Press.
"In his speech on Tuesday, Benedict quoted from a book recounting a conversation between 14th century Byzantine Christian Emperor Manuel Paleologos II and an educated Persian on the truths of Christianity and Islam.
"The emperor comes to speak about the issue of jihad, holy war," the pope said. "He said, I quote, 'Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.'"
The remarks sparked protests and some violence across parts of the Muslim world.
Earlier Sunday in the West Bank, two churches were set on fire as anger over the pope's comments grew throughout the Palestinian territories.
In the town of Tulkarem, a 170-year-old stone church was torched before dawn and its interior was destroyed, Christian officials said. In the village of Tubas, a small church was attacked with firebombs and partially burned, Christians said."
Yep, those Muslims sure showed the Pope how wrong he was to mention a fallacious quote about them being violent.
Friday, September 15, 2006
I've gotten in the habit of reading movie reviews. Sometimes, they're entertaining, usually when saying how bad a movie is. I guess this week, the Black Dahlia was the stinker. Really, how it could it not be? Featuring untalented immature actors like Josh Hartnet playing "Film Noir Adults" it was bound to lose. I doubt anyone would've wanted to see this movie anyway, but whatever, there were so many ads even I was aware of it.
I finished Catch-22 and will finish Machiavelli's the Prince pretty soon. Catch-22 has apparently been read by everyone and is acclaimed as their favorite. I always think it's funny that those popular favorites for people are always school-assigned books. In many of the schools I sub for it's on the AP "Reading List". Although, I doubt many of readers can really understand much of the humor. Yes, there's the upfront sarcasm and absurdity, but some of the jokes go pretty deep. And Heller seems to pull words out of thin air sometimes that fit so damn well.
So yes, the book was pretty funny. Still, it was pretty sad. Nothing really happens except that most of the characters die or have an unresolved unpromising future. The existential thread linking it altogether chills any coming warmth for any of the characters. They're all afraid of death, but none of them, and I mean NONE OF THEM, have much to live for in the first place. Maybe that's the point. But, that just depends on your point of view. As a moralist Catholic I'd say Heller wants to show the futility and mediocrity of these small minded people that live out of fear and laziness. But, the fact that he offers no hero, or example of virtue, might mean that he doesn't believe it really exists. Everything is absurd and then you die. Eh...
Of course, it's most likely just a big laugh not meant to probe too deeply. I know alot of shows like Black Adder and the Simpsons have utilized the same humor so it's something of a classic. And it is pretty brilliantly written. Overall, I'm glad to have read it.
Now, I'm reading the Prince which offers plenty of reasons to learn history. If only we all did that. Our opinions on social matters would evolve beyond proportions. But, what for now, let the pundits cluck away like mindless chickens and let us shrug off in cynical indifference.
Thursday, September 7, 2006
I subbed for ESL for three days. What a revelation. It was something that actually filled me with serious anguish.
Behold, the lost children of absolutely no future. That's what I had before me. Two classes of merely ten kids for two hours each. What are they assigned for the extended time they're given to excel and learn English so they can be with the other kids, let alone function in the world? A story and question that literally takes two minutes (I did it myself).
The first two days went swimmingly. I just tried avoiding the pitiful sight before me. I had to remind myself again and again, "You're only a sub, don't go beyond yourself. It'll suck if you try."
This third day, I couldn't shut my eyes anymore. Plus, they started misbehaving. Their packets were utter trash. Everything was wrong, or copied off of something wrong. I actually looked at what they were giving me and it was pathetic. I frequently had to explain to EACH of them that they made no sense and didn't seem to read the incredibly easy-to-read story. They only shrugged it off and wrote more nonsensical sentences coupled with actually copying the text itself. I stopped caring and just took their trash and left it for the teacher to take. They asked me if I was grading it, I said that their teacher will. They breathed a sigh of relief. I'm guessing they get good grades for their demonstration of utter phlegmatic ignorance and indifference.
Afterwards they were supposed to read their assigned books which they were supposed to make a report on the next day. They just talked. I got fed up.
"Do you understand why you're here? You have to learn how to read, write, and speak English! You don't do that by chatting endlessly in Spanish. You do it by reading and writing and practicing your speech. None of you have even TRIED! For three days you've wasted my time, your teacher's time, and your time. Don't you get it? You live in the United States and we speak English! Do you want a job? Do you want to learn something useful? Do you want to get a home? Do you even want to be noticed?! You're nothing until you're able to learn English! So stop this and read and make something of this class!"
Their dead stares was the response I got. I'd be surprised if they caught half of what I was saying in the clearest slowest English I was capable of. Then one of the guys who was the most obnoxious with his diamond studded earrings and oversized clothing spoke in a terrible broken English that was meant to indicate he knew the language. They all laughed and he smiled triumphantly.
I had a fixed stare on him and said calmly, "You know what's absolutely pathetic? I have no idea what you just said. You're trying to be clever and crack a joke, but I can't understand you. You make no sense. The people laughing make even less sense."
He sat back down humiliated. And everyone got quiet. They got their books out and pretended to read while giggling every other minute. Luckily class was almost over and they left. By then, I felt like I just experienced a tragedy.
These kids have no future. No expectations are placed on them. They occupy a classroom setting with the optimum conditions of extended time and few students. But, they'll simply wait idly until their aren't forced to go to school and they'll start drug dealing, ice cream peddling, lawn mowing, or taking care of the kids they had in the meantime. In short, they will be utterly meaningless illiterate citizens. The real dregs of society cluttering any community they choose to taint.
I warned them but it's hopeless; they're already gone.
Friday, September 1, 2006
In the news (which is really nothing new) today,
As expected, Iran has ignored the requests of the U.N. Security council to discontinue their nuclear armament program and told the world to go suck a lemon. As expected, the U.N. replied shuffling more papers and scheduling more meetings on the predicament. As expected, the two opportunists in the Security Council, Russia and China, have delayed any progress on the matter. Both of them are involved in aiding Iran's nuclear initiative. As expected, a few clear-headed individuals in the U.S. have suggested a more proactive approach to Iran's disarmament like air raids on the operations. As expected, the repercussions to these suggestions resounded in harsh criticism of any kind of military action calling for peace and appeasement recalling the failure of the Iraq War (which has yet to be finished and therefore properly evaluated), but never recalling the failure of the French resistance in WW2 where appeasement resulted in the Holocaust and the Nazi conflagration in Europe. And as expected, all this gets muddled into a gray insipid mass of stuff that people start forgetting about, except Israel (as expected) who'd be the first to be bombed by Iran.
In my own little part of the nation in Farmers Branch Texas, a council member raised concern with illegal immigration. Mainly, that it's illegal, detrimental to the community who has to pay more and more to aid them, and schools forced to fit them into already crowded classrooms and provide them with bilingual instructors. The laws aren't anything new, but they never seemed to be enforced. Businesses can't hire illegals nor should landlords house them. Naturally this caused an uproar among illegals, family members of illegals who just got naturalized, and the businesses making overwhelming profits hiring the cheap labor. Their argument? Well, you tell me if this is an argument, "Shit! This has been goin' on forever? Why care now?!" Seriously, that's their argument. Strangely, it seems to sway enough people onto their side, or at least calms them to indifference. So, due to the majority of constituents who support breaking the law including the campaign paying ones, nothing is probably going to happen as usual.
The Americans were upset in the World Championships by none other than the Greek national team. There aren't any NBA players in Greece, yet the American roster was packed to the brim with All-Stars lead by the well known shoe sponsors, Lebron James, Dwayne Wade, and Carmelo Antony. Interestingly enough, Wade who was awarded the NBA Final MVP award proved ineffective not being granted a zillion free throws by winking arbiters. Carmelo was trying redeem himself after smoking too much weed with his thug buddies, but will only be able to win a bronze. And Lebron found that he was misheralded as the next Michael Jordan, it's actually Greece's Vassilis Spanoulis. Rolls off the tongue doesn't it?
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
It's funny what a different message comes from my classroom and the actual classroom. I can remember last night in one of my certification classes, American Public School, everyone shares their warm fuzzies about becoming a teacher. My treacly professor joins in extolling teachers to pink puffy heights (she was a counselor, of professions. Then we all did an assignment in groups where we discussed being influenced by a teacher. The women would talk about the one elementary school teacher that gave them confidence and joy. The Math teacher that made math fun. The English teacher that would dress up as characters in the book they had to read. And some more teachers achieving those emotional breakthroughs with the ever troubled teens or whomever. I could list no real teacher that influenced me, except the one teacher that did his job teaching and didn't waste time trying to get me enthusiastic. But, not keeping with the tones of my group buddies, I kept quiet.
Later on, my group would discuss why they were becoming teachers. Mothers wanting an easier work schedule and "loving kids", those wanting to help the poor youths, those that are teaching out of spite of another profession they've been doing for so long usually thinking teaching is easy, or those that actually have a vocation.
At the end of class, my teacher concluded with some little poem about kids entering the world of school and how much influence those teachers would have on the poor little guy. The women sighed and quietly said "Awww..." The guys thoughtfully said "Hmmm..." I rolled my eyes and realized why 50 percent of teachers in their first 5 years of school quit.
Being a substitute for 2 and a half weeks has shown me a terrible contrast to the images conjured up by my university. The fact is, kids aren't wide eyed youngin's needing some love and respect. They're aloof, depressed, self-centered, and sometimes cruel. Sure, they'll have their moments of kindness, brilliance, curiosity, respectfulness but normally they're usually the former qualities. It takes some dedicated intelligent effort of the teacher to make those moments permanent.
Then there're kids that are extremely brutish and frankly, pretty dim. I'm still pondering how you deal with these kids. The experts that teach me suggest counseling, understanding, individual talks. The kids just don't get enough love. I don't think it's this. They're just surrounded by incompetent bozos in their households. They need to understand this. Counselors never seem to get the point across. The parents are as we esablished, bozos. That leaves, I don't know, complete seclusion for a while?
In fact, the experts will suggest this treatment with all kids. They even preach against evaluations saying it stresses out students. But, without grades, kids do nothing. It's a proven fact. Without consequences kids act badly. Another proven fact. Good smart kids are slaves to the grade. Bad dim-witted kids are slave to prospective punishment. But, what about the intrinsic motivators in learning you ask? It's a complicated question.
Most educated people don't realize when they're older, that younger people aren't intrinsically motivated to learn. Alot of older people aren't intrinsically motivated to learn. Adults are slave to the dollar and prestige and the kids follow in their footsteps. So where is it to come from?
Here is my reason for being a teacher. Despite the crummy experience I've had being a DISD public school drone, I love knowledge. I love learning. I like reading, discussing, thinking, all those things. It's a little fire that managed to stay in me despite the lack of kindling given. The world's an interesting place, people have some interesting thoughts, and you can really have a laugh. You want to know the moments that make it worthwhile for me and any other teacher who was truly meant to teach? A kid asking me something even though it has nothing to do with his grade, his bladder, or anything in his interest. A kid writing something that's not in the book but in his developing mind. A kid laughing at my nerdy jokes, because he sees that knowledge is funny too.
Unfortunately, these moments are extremely rare. Really, you can't tell a kid to be intrinsically motivated. You just have to model it and maintain the disciplined structure (no easy task) that will allow him/her to see what you see. Observing my class of over 100 prospective educators, I might be one among a handful that feel this way. The rest will create more drones if they try, or complete animals if they don't.
But there is hope. Every kid (even the ferociously dim-witted) has a little philosophical (knowledge-loving) fire in them. There are possibilities. Though, many will hardly come out of their drone selves till their well out of high school or college.
Not every kid is going to be saved. Far from it. But, you may hear those teachers "doing it for the good ones". Well, those are the ones that can be saved. And you better do what you can to save them before they're one of the bad ones.
As a sub, I only observe. The drones may have a chance, and the animals (and they do exist) well... they're set to be bums and low-end retail workers. Many will probably remain in school for a long while before finally being kicked out because they're too old. And, I'll say this without flinching, I'll try to keep them as far away from me and my good students as possible. Let them return to their cursed womb or to a useless counselor indefinitely. Then, and only then, can life happen.
I think it's something a teacher who actually plans to teach must accept. There are very few warm fuzzies, but maybe there'll be some genuinely more intelligent people in the world.
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